30 Days of Undead Summer

#WhichWayWednesday

I wanted to write an essay for this one but also felt like writing a short story, so here you go!

I was thirteen when the zombie apocalypse began. I was a proud inhabitant of Chicago, Illinois, and lived there with my two younger sisters, my mother, and my stepfather. My real father had died when I was three, just about.

When the zombie apocalypse began, my younger sisters were ten and eight. The ten-year-old was my biological sister while the eight-year-old was my half sister.

They both ended up dying, one of disease and one at the hands of my zombified mother.

My stepfather and I were left alone, grief-stricken and unsure what to do. There was one thing that we knew for sure, however: we could not stay in memory (and zombie) ridden Chicago.

One night, after I had performed the routine checks on the barricades at our windows and doors and made sure our food supply and bottled water was secure, my stepfather called me to the dinner table, which we now used for strategizing.

"We're leaving," he told me.

I remained silent. After all, this was nothing compared to watching nearly everyone I had loved die. I also didn't harbor very fond feelings for Chicago myself.

"The only problem is where," my stepfather continued, spreading his hands to show the map placed in front of him, its corners casually held to the tabletop with knives. I thought with a pang of pain at the aneurism this would have given my mother. "North, south, east, or west?"

"North would be cold," I pointed out after a second of deliberation. "Even colder than here. That could be dangerous in the winter."

"Exactly," my stepfather agreed, and he used a large red Sharpie to cross "N" off of the compass rose.

"What about east?"

"East would take us toward the government."

My stepfather snorted. "Like they'd take the time to help us."

"It might be good to get closer to them if they're able to get back on their feet," I pointed out, but my stepfather shook his head.

"They're not going to be able to, not without external help. The only benefit to going east would be to get to New York City, since that's a harbor other countries might use. I don't think that's worth it, though, not with New York's huge, zombified population." He leaned forward and decisively crossed off the "E" on the map.

"Out west, there's a stretch of plains that we could get lost in, and we'd be the last to know if help arrived," I reminded my stepfather. "Besides, if we made it past the plains, we'd get into incredibly crowded territory."

My stepfather pondered this for a moment before leaning forward and crossing out west on the map. "South it is, then!"